Bonds Money Cannot Buy

Mark Goetten's right hand, clenched around his saber, began to tremble.

"Knock it off? My Ganggi—with mere sword aura?"

Rage flared in his eyes for the first time, burning through the irritation that had filled them until now.

"You're even worse than that brat. Does the Light Wind Squad only recruit people who run their mouths?"

Mark Goetten twisted his lips as he looked at Dorian.

"He has a bit of that in him, yeah."

Raon snorted a laugh, grabbed Dorian by the collar, and tossed him backward. Dorian's body shot toward the wall as if he would slam into it—then slowed, settling gently onto the floor.

"Hmph..."

Mark Goetten narrowed his eyes at the sight.

"So it wasn't complete nonsense, then."

He leveled his saber. Even denser Ganggi surged along the crescent moon of its blade.

"You've got no connection to the patron, so I suppose it doesn't matter if I beat you half to death."

"You're welcome to try—if you can."

"You arrogant little—!"

With those words, Mark Goetten vanished. He reappeared on the left as if he'd skipped through space itself, bringing his saber down in a crushing chop.

A saber strike wreathed in tremendous wind pressure came down as if it would tear Raon's shoulder apart.

Raon stepped his right foot out to the side, tilting his body faster than the descending blow. By a paper-thin margin, Mark Goetten's saber Ganggi failed to split his shoulder and crashed into the earth instead.

"Hmph!"

As if he'd expected as much, Mark Goetten bent the saber that had carved the floor and drove it sideways, launching a strike along Raon's line of movement—one that should have been impossible to dodge.

Pretty fast.

Raon turned his left ankle inward and stepped back. The Garam Footwork that bloomed naturally from his stride let the saber strike slide past. Strands of hair severed by the Ganggi scattered into the air.

"Your footwork's not bad. But—!"

Mark Goetten kicked off the ground, a fierce light in his eyes. Reading the Garam Footwork's direction of movement, he seized the space ahead and swept his saber upward. The strike was fast and uncompromising, carrying the greatest strengths of the saber as a weapon—speed and keenness.

They said he'd fallen into dissipation, but he hasn't become a complete wreck.

Word was he'd do anything to earn money for his pleasures, yet he didn't seem to have neglected his training entirely. The quantity and quality of his aura, at least, were first-rate.

Just right.

He wasn't a bad opponent at all for testing the stats that had risen after consuming the Ocean Spirit Flower and the core of the Ghost Jellyfish.

Raon unfolded the Garam Footwork in a continuous chain, letting Mark Goetten's chilling saber strikes slide harmlessly past.

"You said you'd knock my Ganggi off—how long are you going to do nothing but run?!"

Mark Goetten's face twisted as he poured on more speed. He launched the first strike, then immediately shifted behind Raon and fired the second. Ganggi that bent with the exquisite suddenness of a thunderbolt came pouring down from front and back at once.

"I was just taking a look at the situation."

Raon turned his ankle and waist in opposite directions. His upper body rotated with the flexibility of a leaf riding a current, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠slipping the first strike with exquisite precision.

Watching Mark Goetten himself charge in with the second blow, Raon halted the Garam Footwork and dropped his center of gravity. He gave his wrist a faint twist and unfolded the Refining Sword Technique.

"You idiot!"

Mark Goetten sneered as he drove the saber strike down. The wave of Ganggi packed into the blade crushed in from every direction, pressing on Raon's entire body.

This much is nothing.

He shattered the Ganggi's pressure with physical strength alone, then raised his longsword. The sword aura blooming along the blade rose in a spiral and shaved away the Ganggi coiled around the saber.

It looked as if a crimson waterspout were coiling down around the saber Ganggi, winding tighter and tighter as it fell.

"What a pointless—huh?"

Mark Goetten, about to lift the saber he'd angled downward and strike again, froze in place. He stared at the weapon in his grip, his mouth falling open.

The Ganggi was carved away?

That red energy had only brushed past a moment ago—yet the Ganggi wrapping his saber had been gouged out, as if a beast had torn chunks from it with its teeth.

He had never seen sword aura carve Ganggi. Never even heard of it. He had no idea what had just happened.

"You..."

Mark Goetten swallowed dryly and glared at Raon.

"What did you just do?"

"I used footwork and unfolded a sword technique. Why? Want me to tell you the name of it too?"

Raon shrugged with easy composure.

"You call that an answer?!"

Mark Goetten raised the torn Ganggi once more and came surging in. Unlike before, established forms now inhabited his saber art. He had begun to use proper martial arts.

Raon narrowed his eyes at the saber Ganggi twisting toward him.

Unusual.

It was a rough-shaped saber art that alternated between right and left, yet it was far faster and fiercer than a simple downward chop.

That said... not so much that I can't break it.

Reading the saber art's movement, he extended his longsword. Ganggi was a condensation of aura, formed by gathering sword aura upon sword aura. In the end, if you struck with sword aura enough times, it had no choice but to be carved away.

The Refining Sword Technique, carrying the true meaning of Spiral Power, linked together like a constellation and tore Mark Goetten's Ganggi apart.

Raon didn't stop at defense. He took one step further. The sword ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠aura that had split the Ganggi shot out like a flash of lightning and punched through Mark Goetten's waist. Blood sprayed from the opened wound.

"Ghk!"

Mark Goetten clutched his waist and sprang backward. His pupils trembled with shock.

"R-rotation...?"

He wasn't entirely without a sense for it, at least. He seemed to have grasped how the Ganggi had been torn away.

"That's right. I scraped your Ganggi off with sword aura carrying rotation."

Raon nodded and leveled his longsword.

"Th-that's impossible. You don't even know the forms of my Azure Storm Blade—how could you read those movements and carve the Ganggi?!"

"Of course I don't know them. But where you were going to move was obvious."

The saber art Mark Goetten had named the Azure Storm Blade was a martial study that carved with the saber along angular, lightning-like forms. It held speed, keenness, and power—but his training was so immature that reading its flow hadn't been difficult.

"Your achievement is worse than basic footwork and basic swordsmanship. Even sword aura is wasted on you."

"You little—"

Mark Goetten ground his teeth until they bled.

"Talent. Is that it? That damned difference in talent?!"

His presence swelled to a magnitude in a different class from before. Veins stood out on his forehead as he dragged up every ounce of his power.

"Why does everyone else have the talent I don't?!"

Mark Goetten screamed and smashed the floor as he charged. Hideous, vicious Ganggi stretched from his saber. His realm was only Low-rank Master, but the vast aura he had accumulated over decades erupted all at once.

Are you truly going to face him with sword aura alone?

Wrath frowned as if the whole thing were meaningless.

You've already revealed your identity. Just use Ganggi...

A martial artist keeps his word once he's given it.

Raon smiled coldly and plunged into the storm of saber Ganggi. Having grasped the saber art's movement, he raised a colossal flow that wound around those very forms.

The Ganggi that had blanketed the training hall withered away to nothing, and Mark Goetten's saber crumbled to powder. Wounds carved by sword aura opened across his entire body, and blood ran down. A little deeper, and every one of them would have been fatal.

"Ah..."

Mark Goetten dropped to his knees as emptily as a puppet with its strings cut. All the strength had gone out of him; his limbs trembled.

"Now you finally live up to the name Falling Blossom Blade."

Raon rested his longsword on his shoulder and snorted a laugh.

"What... what are you..."

Mark Goetten lifted his head with difficulty. Despair kindled in his eyes.

"Erasing Thunderclap Heavenly Wind with sword aura... how has someone like you not even become famous..."

"Do you even know my name?"

"Th-that's..."

Only now realizing he had fought without even hearing his opponent's name, Mark Goetten bit his lip.

"You were overconfident. A Master isn't invincible. And sword aura doesn't always lose to Ganggi."

"That's something only a talented freak like you can do."

Mark Goetten's voice cracked as he forced the words out.

"An ordinary man like me could spend his whole life and never become what you are. What makes you and me different? What did you even do to end up with talent like that?!"

He screamed as if venting a lifetime of resentment.

"Talent. Talent. I'm sick of hearing it."

Raon looked down at Mark Goetten, his face twisting in distaste.

"You're right. I have talent, and I have luck. But what does that have to do with your weakness?"

"If I'd had talent like yours..."

"Talent isn't something you're born with, complete and finished. It's something you carve, the way you sculpt a plaster statue—through countless experiences and moments of despair as you live."

In this life, luck and timing had overlapped to create a favorable environment. But what had built that environment was his own choices and his own effort. He had walked a path of blood dozens of times, and he had survived more brushes with death than he could count.

"You asked me earlier how I read the flow of your saber art."

Raon looked down at Mark Goetten with cold eyes.

"It's simple. Your forms were sloppy. You trained them halfheartedly."

"Wh-what garbage is that?! I still haven't let go of my saber!"

"Right. You didn't let go—and you poured everything into the principles of saber arts and aura cultivation. When was the last time you unfolded your forms properly, from start to finish?"

"Nngh..."

"You buried yourself in martial studies and the realm of aura and never properly trained your forms, did you? Your forms are dead. You haven't even equipped yourself with a martial artist's fundamentals, so of course you're stuck in the same place."

It irritated him—watching someone who had never truly worked dismiss talent that had been forged while enduring pain that would make an ordinary human want to die. It irritated him especially because in his previous life he had lived a life where he wanted to strive and could not, and here was Mark Goetten, a free man, doing nothing but despairing.

"How many times have you faced death? Have you ever passed out in the middle of training? Have you ever built an achievement that set you apart from everyone else, by your own hand? What challenges have you even taken on?"

"Th-that's..."

Mark Goetten couldn't answer a single question. He only looked at Raon, his jaw trembling. Whether he had nothing to say or nothing he was able to say, Raon neither knew nor cared.

"A flower grown in a greenhouse can't endure even a small trial."

Raon closed his left hand into a fist and walked toward Mark Goetten.

"Don't cover your laziness and incompetence with talk of talent."

With those words, he smashed his fist into Mark Goetten's jaw.

Mark Goetten flew without even managing a scream and slammed into the wall. A roar like the earth splitting open accompanied the wall as it collapsed. Mark Goetten didn't get up. He lay sprawled on his back, out cold.

"Wh-what! What is this?!"

Palen's jaw trembled as she stared at the smoke rising from the fallen wall.

"Get up! Do you have any idea how much money I paid you? And you're losing to an Expert?!"

Her eyes rolled back as she jabbed a finger at the unconscious Mark Goetten and screamed.

"I said get up!"

Palen kept shouting, but Mark Goetten's mind did not return.

"Hey."

Raon walked up to Palen with his longsword still resting on his shoulder.

"Ugh..."

He hadn't even raised his presence, so Palen only frowned, not particularly cowed.

"D-don't think this is over."

She ground her teeth, staring Raon straight in the eye.

"Trash like that was only hired temporarily for this. If I bring the real ones, I can crush someone like you whenever I want."

"You can crush me, can you..."

Raon lifted his chin with a faint smile.

"Is that so?"

"You're young too. There's nothing money can't move. Bonds? You believe in something you can't even see? If you have money, you can summon even Zieghart or Robert on the spot. Making you kneel wouldn't even be work!"

"I'll ask you again."

Raon swept back his disheveled hair. The red strands his fingers passed through became a brilliant wave of gold, and the blue of his eyes—deep as the sea—evaporated, spilling scarlet flame.

"Th-that blonde hair... those red eyes..."

Palen recoiled in horror. The strength went out of her legs; she didn't make it more than a few steps before she collapsed to the ground.

Raon's presence rose like a wildfire. In a single instant, the entire training hall became a space under his dominion.

"Ah... ah..."

Palen's pupils rolled like a sailboat struck by a tidal wave. She clacked her teeth together as if her mind had left her, her whole body shaking.

Raon Zieghart...

Why is this monster here?

Eden had tried to kidnap Raon, and an entire branch had been wiped off the map. The White Blood Cult's leader had been grievously wounded. Finding anyone who could handle the martial power of the person called Raon was no easy task. People who could face the White Sword Dragon—the one who had smashed Borini Kitten, Garona, and Cadis Robert in succession—were not common.

But setting all of that aside...

She was terrified.

Looking into those red eyes, deeper and darker than a crimson moon, her mind went white. Not a single thought would form. She wanted to drop to her knees right then and there, just to escape that fear.

"Answer me. Can you crush me?"

"...N-no. I cannot."

Palen bowed her head as if surrendering. She couldn't endure the blade-sharp presence and the mental shock. She fainted and toppled over backward.

Raon's gaze shifted to the burly martial artist who had been standing beside Palen.

"Will you surrender?"

"Y-yes! I have absolutely no intention of fighting—"

"No need."

Raon frowned and smashed his fist into the burly martial artist's face. He hadn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠held back; the man's enormous body was planted upside down in the earth.

"A martial artist declaring defeat without even fighting. Pathetic."

Raon clicked his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tongue and dusted off his hands.

Hah...

Wrath let out a hollow breath as he looked from Raon to the warrior planted in the ground.

Is this guy actually insane?

He'd asked if the man would surrender, and when the man surrendered, he'd punched him. Wrath wondered if another demon like this existed anywhere in the world.

No matter how This King thinks about it, the answer is clear. The place you belong is not here—it's the Demon Realm...

Shut up.

Dorian bit his lip hard as he looked at Raon's back.

Raon bringing down Mark Goetten was a given. His martial power was enough to break even an Upper Master.

What's truly astonishing is...

That he had shattered sword Ganggi with sword aura. He truly hadn't raised Ganggi at all. He hadn't even used a special martial art. With nothing but sword aura and fundamental martial studies, he had brought Mark Goetten down. Dorian had seen it with his own eyes, and he still could barely believe it.

But...

As astonishing as that was, what struck him to the core wasn't Raon's martial arts. It was the words he had spoken.

Those words. Those words that had flowed out so calmly kept circling through his mind, piercing his chest with a force he couldn't ignore.

Bonds.

He had never imagined that this short word—meaning the relationships people form with one another—could stir such deep emotion. It hit even harder because the one who had said it was Raon Zieghart, a man who rarely joked.

That means he was sincere.

Whatever else he might lie about, Raon did not lie about the Light Wind Squad. For him to say that in a situation like this meant the entire Light Wind Squad truly saw Dorian that way.

I wasn't alone.

His real home wasn't this merchant company. It was the Light Wind Squad. He would risk his life for them—and they all felt the same. Tears he couldn't hold back spilled down his face.

"Nngh..."

Dorian used his sword as a cane and forced himself to his feet. He bowed his head toward Raon, who stood alone, quietly, in the middle of the hall.

Thank you. For scolding this fool.

Raon had spoken as if threatening Palen, but the one he had truly wanted to wake up was probably Dorian himself. He had clearly planned this whole affair to make him understand: You are not alone. Raon Zieghart and the Light Wind Squad stand behind you.

I'm truly grate—

"What are you doing?"

Dorian was still bowing, wiping his tears, when a large shadow fell across him and Raon's voice reached his ears.

"I-I was just trying to thank..."

"Ah. That felt good."

Raon rolled his wrist and grinned.

"I'd had a problem with your sister from the moment she started mixing in that rude tone. Wrecking the whole place has taken a load off."

"......"

Dorian hiccupped and lifted his gaze.

"Th-then it wasn't for my sake..."

"You? What did you even do? You just got beaten up and that was the end of it, wasn't it?"

"N-no, you said you stood behind me..."

"I had to say something like that if I wanted your sister to take a proper hit, didn't I?"

Raon snorted a laugh and pointed at the unconscious Palen.

"You were trying to enlighten me..."

"No?"

"Uh..."

Dorian swallowed dryly. Palen had, in fact, lost consciousness from that mental shock, so it wasn't wrong, exactly.

I-it wasn't sincere...?

He was lowering his eyes in disappointment when Raon tapped him on the shoulder.

"I just told her the truth. You did well. Today you were a swordsman of the Light Wind Squad."

Raon gave his shoulder a firm squeeze, then walked toward the training hall's exit.

"Ah..."

Dorian clutched his roughly pounding chest and bit his lip. He bowed his head more formally than he ever had in his life.

"Thank you!"

"That's enough. Let's go."

"Yes!"

He answered with every scrap of strength he had left and followed after Raon.

"So noisy..."

"I-I'm sorry! I was just so happy..."

"Not you. There's a certain someone throwing a fit demanding food."

Raon frowned down at his wrist, muttering that he was hungry. He grumbled something about a bothersome cotton candy and turned his head.

"Let's eat first."

"Well, we haven't had anything since lunch."

Dorian nodded.

"I'll ask them to prepare a meal."

"You're coming too."

"Ah, I should go to the infirmary first..."

"Spit on it and you'll be fine. Let's go eat."

"No, I was hit by a sword..."

"Want to train a bit more before we go?"

"I-I'll go!"

Dorian shook his head, wiping his tears.

This guy, I swear...

He had been so moved by how magnificent Raon had looked today—and now the man was starting to look like a demon again. Truly, there was no figuring him out.

"Hah..."

Dorian sighed and was about to leave the training hall when he realized Raon hadn't followed. He was standing still, looking up at a tree to the west.

"Aren't you coming?"

"I thought there was a flying squirrel in that tree."

Raon narrowed his eyes at the tree standing at the western edge of the training hall.

"A flying squirrel?"

Dorian studied the tree, tilting his head.

"I don't think there was anyone there..."

"That so."

Raon muttered that he was going to develop a neurosis and shook his head.

"Well, I don't know about flying squirrels—but there are quite a few bats."

He looked up at the sky with a chilly smile.

"I'm looking forward to seeing what kind of reaction comes tomorrow."